


Steve Goes to the Animals

by sweetNsimple



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Based on a prompt from tumblr, How do dogs drive cars?, I don't want to ruin any surprises, Steve is LOSING HIS MIND, The cat is definitely going to eat the parrot, You'll understand if you read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writing Prompt #575: They're Just Like Us.</p><p>“Steve.  Steeve.  Stop doing that.  I'm serious, it's not funny, I don't think it's 'fun' or 'cute'.  It's really annoying and, you know what?  It makes me feel really down.  I'm smarter than that, Steve.”</p><p>Steve drops the tennis ball.  It bounces and then rolls right past his Norfolk Terrier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Goes to the Animals

 “Steve. Steeve. Stop doing that. I'm serious, it's not funny, I don't think it's 'fun' or 'cute'. It's really annoying and, you know what? It makes me feel really down. I'm smarter than that, Steve.”

 

Steve drops the tennis ball. It bounces and then rolls right past his Norfolk Terrier. 

 

Tony's tiny little tail wags. “See? What did I tell you, Steve? You had it behind your back the entire time!”

 

“Oh, God,” Steve says. “I'm dreaming.”

 

“Huh? No, you're not. Oh.” Tony tilts his black-and-tan head, triangular ears coming up. “I mean, bark! Bark, bark, bark! Ah, who am I kidding. Surprise!”

 

“Oh, God,” Steve says again.

 

“You're not going to pass out on me, are you?”

 

“I, I think I should sit down.”

 

“Yeah, maybe you should.”

 

“Tony, what did you do?” Bruce lumbers into the living room, looks once from Steve to Tony, and then rumbles, tiredly, “Tony, you didn't.”

 

“Oh, _God_.”

 

“ _Yes_ , Steve, we get it. This is all shocking and stuff. You can stop saying that!”

 

“It's alright, Steve,” Bruce says, pushing up Steve's favorite lounge chair for him. “Just take a seat and I'll grab you a water bottle from the fridge. It's all okay.”

 

He lumbers back out. 

 

“That – that was Bruce,” Steve chokes.

 

“Yeah.” Tony huffs. “Do you have any other three-foot tall gray Newfoundland in the house that we don't know of? And you can sit now. There's a chair right behind you.”

 

Steve does, though not entirely of his own free will. His knees knock and shake and the world is coming through in blobs of black and gray.

 

A light weight leaps onto his lap and then hits against his chest. “ _Breathe_ , Steve. You're forgetting to breathe!”

 

“My dogs can talk.”

 

Tony huffs again. “ _Your_ dogs? Steve, _you_ are _our_ human. Get it right.”

 

“You're talking to me.”

 

“You're not going to get over that, are you?”

 

“Tony...” comes an enchanting, female voice. “Look at what you did to our pet.” And a second weight lands daintily on Steve's lap. 

 

He tilts his head down, more out of masochistic punishment than any sort of curiosity, and gazes upon his Russian Toy, gazing right back at him. The tiny red bundle of elegance and fur paws at his cheek. 

 

“Oh, good. You're not broken.”

 

“How come everyone's getting angry at me?” Tony whines. “Everyone else is talking in front of him!”

 

“You're the easiest to get angry at.”

 

Tony whines again, but it's an animal noise this time.

 

Steve can't fight reflex, so his hand is already scratching behind Tony's ears before it really, actually sinks in.

 

“My dogs can talk.”

 

“So do you,” Natasha, his Russian Toy, comments. “We've gotten use to our pet talking.”

 

Bruce comes back, water bottle in both paws as he walks upright. Steve hears a faint wailing, like a dying soul, and hopes that it's not coming from him. 

 

After a moment of listening – Bruce puts the water bottle in his hands and then slobbers all over his face, pressing his nose to Steve's forehead. “He doesn't have a fever, at least.” – he realizes that it's just his mind breaking.

 

And then, suddenly, his beagle is in his face, sniffing him over.

 

“Oh, God,” Steve can't stop himself from saying again. “Please, Clint, not you too –”

 

“Not me too what?” Clint tosses a growl over his shoulder at Tony. “I blame you!”

 

“Back off, Scooby-Doo! He's just upset because we're all talking and it goes against his Christian morals.”

 

“I'm not awake,” Steve decides. “I ate something weird last night, so now I'm dreaming that my dogs are talking to me.” 

 

“This is not a dream, Steve,” rumbles Bruce. “Please don't cry.”

 

“I'm not crying.” He feels like he should be, but the tears aren't there. Hysteria is close, but no tears. “Of course a dream would say it's not a dream. I've had dreams like that before. This is a dream.”

 

“Yep, he's lost it.” Tony sniffs and shuffles to find better purchase on Steve's crowded lap. “Anyone up for going to the store? Steve “healthnut” Rogers left his wallet in the kitchen, we should be able to get REAL food while he's in self-denial.”

 

“I'm up for it,” Clint seconds.

 

“MY CANINE FRIENDS!” Steve's golden retriever comes barreling down the stairs. “My brother, from my old home, he has contacted me through the telephone!” Thor howls. “I was so excited to hear his voice once more, I ate it!”

 

“How much of the phone?” Tony asks.

 

“Not as much as I would have liked. 'Twas a difficult task, and unpleasant to swallow.”

 

“Thor, we told you to stop eating Steve's things,” Bruce grumbles. 

 

“I was excited!”

 

“What should we get at the store?” Natasha asks Clint, who huffs thoughtfully.

 

“I'm getting sick and tired of green stuff, so let's eat something blue.”

 

“Donuts! I called it, we're getting donuts.” Tony growls and challenges them all, except Steve, because he must not think much of him at the moment, with a more adorable than threatening glare. “Totally need donuts.”

 

“Donuts will make you sick,” Natasha reasons. “As long as Tony is the only one eating them, then, yes, donuts will be a nice thing to get.”

 

“If we speak of donuts, may I also suggest poptarts? I have eaten them out of our neighbor's waste container, and they are delicious!” Thor exclaims, and his tail goes wild. 

 

“Can we make pancakes?” Bruce asks hopefully.

 

“Sure. It'll take some maneuvering, no thumbs and all, and we might burn down the house, but we can do it. It'll be fun.” Tony paws at Bruce's huge shoulder and grins a doggy grin. “You wait, big guy, you'll be eating more pancakes than Steve here has made in five years.”

 

“You know what sounds good?” Clint licks his chops. “Pizza. We need pizza.”

 

“Oh, God.”

 

“ _Yes_ , Steve, _yes_!” Tony rolls his head and barks, “We can talk!”

 

“No, it's not that –” it kind of is, “my pets are food junkies.”

 

“What would you expect with all the health crap you feed us?” Clint sneezes distastefully. 

 

“As our pet, you really should be getting us better food,” Natasha seconds and raises her head imperiously. “We'll be back with a treat for you, I'll make sure of it.”

 

“Shall I drive, my pack mates?” Thor asks, vibrating with excitement and joy and – oh, God, he might have to go pee. 

 

“NO!” everyone, even Steve, screams (Thor loves car rides, and Steve wishes that there are seat belts for dogs just so Thor will be forced to stay in one spot). 

 

“I'll drive,” Tony barks. “ _With_ Bruce's help. Okay, I get that I'm small, alright? But I know best how to drive, none of you can say otherwise, case closed, _let's go_!”

 

Thor rushes through the doggy door, Clint trotting after him. Natasha and Tony wait for Bruce to maneuver the door open and then walk out, tails straight up. 

 

Bruce looks back at him. “Don't worry. We won't crash or anything. And I won't let them go wild on the card.”

 

The door closes quietly behind him, leaving Steve alone in the quiet of his house.

 

Steve gulps from the water bottle, smacks himself, pinches. Gets up and goes outside. The neighbor's cat is wearing a skirt and is flirting with the parrot from across the street, who happens to look dapper in a waistcoat.

 

Steve's car is gone from the driveway, and a jeep goes by with a motherloving goat behind the wheel.

 

His other neighbor's German Shepherd Phil almost looks normal, just sitting on his doorstep and watching all the madness with ears perked. 

 

He's wearing a black suit, and Steven is officially freaking out. Especially as Phil catches sight of him and he _nods_. “Hello, Mr. Rogers. I hope your day is going well.” Then he _stands up_ and _walks_ down the street to where a one-eyed doberman is cursing a sailor's face virgin red. 

 

Steve thinks, okay, he might not be dreaming. 

 

But, if he's lucky, he's clinically insane, and a nurse will be by any moment to give him his medicine.

 

“Oh, God,” he says one last time, and then goes jogging in the direction of the nearest grocery store, hoping to find his dogs.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Prompt #575: They're Just Like Us – Write a story about a world in which one day animals just start doing all the stuff humans do — going to the grocery story, driving cars, leaving snarky comments on A.V. Club articles, wearing clothes, ordering takeout, etc. 
> 
> Writing Prompts That Don't Suck --> http://awesomewritingprompts.tumblr.com/


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